


Seven Times Buffy Thought About Fire

by a2zmom



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-17
Updated: 2007-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a2zmom/pseuds/a2zmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes: I not only wish to thank tkp  for the beta, but sparking the idea for section 5 and for knowing that section 7 needed work (which I also was aware of, but since we share brains, I figured she'd guess on her own.)</p><p>Two weeks ago, the open_on_sunday prompt was fire, I immediately wrote part 1 that you see below. I trimmed it down to the necessary 100 words, but realized I had ideas for the other seasons also. This is the resultant fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Seven Times Buffy Thought About Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I not only wish to thank tkp for the beta, but sparking the idea for section 5 and for knowing that section 7 needed work (which I also was aware of, but since we share brains, I figured she'd guess on her own.)
> 
> Two weeks ago, the open_on_sunday prompt was fire, I immediately wrote part 1 that you see below. I trimmed it down to the necessary 100 words, but realized I had ideas for the other seasons also. This is the resultant fic.

1\. She was aware that she had a short expiration date. She had always thought though that she'd go out in a blaze of glory, fire and explosions, taking out hundreds of vamps with her. Die Hard in a Cemetery.

Instead, her limbs are gradually getting heavier and she's drifting, as if she's falling asleep, although she knows she's actually falling dead. The dirty water is soaking her clothes and she wishes her dress wasn't getting ruined. She would have liked to have had one dance in it.

She didn't even take out the bad guy. The Master is free now but she's finding it hard to muster up any concern. He final thought is that maybe the next girl will get a proper Hollywood death full of fire and heroism, instead of stupidly drowning in a pool of scummy water.

2\. She thinks she needs to tell Angel to stop. Each caress leaves behind a tingle except that the sensation doesn't fade. Instead, it's intensifying, small sparks running up and down her body. Her skin feels hot and foreign; it's all too much and she wants to claw at her body to make it go away.

And then, god, she feels him, feels him deep inside and all those sparks are burning hotter and she doesn't think she can stand it, she's on fire inside and she doesn't want it to end and she's moving against him and she's exploding and the fire is inside and outside and everywhere and she's yelling more, more, more and nothing has ever felt this fantastic.

Angel is holding her and he's laughing. "Good?" he asks.

"Good," Buffy groans back and then she's laughing too. "Love you."

"So much," he agrees. He pulls her even closer so that they're completely tangled up in each other.

3\. It's only at the last moment that Buffy finally realizes that she's going to lose him. That it doesn't matter that she loves him, that she doesn't understand giving up, that tomorrow will be a better day because it has to be.

He doesn't want to be in this world anymore and she's going to watch him burn to ash.

The worst part is she understands. Knowing that this kind of darkness is inside you, that you have a talent for destruction and that you enjoy it – that's hard to bear. But there's more to Angel than that. It's almost a physical affront that he doesn't believe that.

She doesn't notice the first few brushes of chill on her cheek. She's shivering anyway, in the knowledge that this is the end. So, when she finally looks up and sees the thick cloud cover, comprehends that it's snowing in California and that the sun won't be making an appearance today, it's all she can do not to fall over with relief.

Later, as they walk through the white streets, she thinks that since fire means hell, surely snow must mean heaven and she moves her lips in silent prayer for saving Angel from himself.

4\. She bites back a laugh as Riley takes down two vamps. She's proud of him for helping keep people safe, but the fact that he needs fifty pounds of specialized equipment to do so is a never ending source of amusement. Tomorrow he's taking her to, in his words, a good old-fashioned country fair, complete with cows and pigs and chickens and pie judging. It's light years away from anything she's ever experienced and she's looking forward to it. She has fun with Riley. Her life is simpler than it's been for a while, he's there for her and the great sex is a nice bonus.

She knows she'll never feel like she'll die if she doesn't see him and that's ok. Being happy is better than passion.

She's already been in a relationship that consumed her with blazing intensity. She learned the hard way that not only do fires burn out of control, but also they leave permanent scars.

5\. She watches as they slowly lower her mother into the earth. It's appropriate that there's no sun; she thinks the skies should weep. Then it occurs to her that someone gets buried every day, she knows that better than most and this is just weather, not grief.

All day long she's heard the whispers:

_She's being so brave.  
She made all the arrangements herself.  
Thank God, Dawn has Buffy to lean on._

They don't understand anything. She's not functional, she's frozen and she doesn't think she'll ever thaw.

She's supposed to protect humanity; she couldn't even save her own mother; she's useless; she deserves to die.

She metes out death every day but until now it hasn't meant much to her. Stick in a stake; vampire go boom. It's been unreal even with all the danger and violence. Not any more. Death is coming for her; she sees that now. She's can't think why she doesn't deserve it.

She wants to be cremated. There's a poetic inevitability to it. She feels like she's always coated in ash anyway. But it's more than that. When the flames consume her flesh, she'll finally feel warm again.

6\. She holds her wrists out and notes that she can see the bones. She knows intellectually it's because she doesn't eat much of anything, but emotionally she feels that her body knows there isn't supposed to be flesh, that she should be bones rotting to dust.

Spike expertly snaps on the manacles and attaches them to the headboard. Stepping back, he surveys her body as if it were a work of art.

From that point, the evening progresses a bit differently each time. Once he melted candles onto her body, the pain of the hot wax contrasting with her over-stimulated flesh as he ripped the cooled wax off. Another time he feasted on her cunt, licking and sucking and nipping long past the point of pleasure, until finally she went past the point of pain and found pleasure again. He's flogged her, taken her hard up the ass, massaged her with oils, fucked her in every position imaginable.

The end result is always the same. When she finally comes, she screams his name. And when she goes home, she stands under the shower and dispassionately catalogues the new bruises that have blossomed.

When she wakes up, she tells herself that tonight, she won't go to him. But the fact is, without Spike, she's afraid that the few embers of life she's still carrying around will finally go out. Each night, he coaxes the sparks into a roaring fire and for a little while, she remembers what it feels like to be alive.

7\. Her emotions keep flipping as if someone is pushing a remote control and she's switching from sitcom to angsty teen drama to dispassionate documentary.

She's free. For the first time in eight years, destiny is just a word instead of the word. She can't help but feel giddy at the thought of that. She can go back to college. She can date Joe Normal and not have to pull that whole Clark Kent/Superman secret identity thing. She can sleep at night if she wants.

Her thoughts continually spiral, but they always return to Spike. She chokes back a sob. She still finds it hard to believe. He had always been larger than life, always following his own path. Spike just can't be gone.

She can't help but think of their final conversation. Of Spike telling her she didn't love him. He was right, she didn't. But he had also been wrong, so very wrong. She had been about to fall for him. He had managed to break through the walls she had erected. And now he was gone. One more person who had left her.

She sighed. She is being ridiculous, she's aware of that. She doubts he had wanted to burn to death. She hopes he didn't suffer very long. She hopes he knows how brave she thought he was at the end. A true hero.

Once again she blinks back tears. She can still feel his fingers interlaced with hers; she can see the incandescence surrounding them. The light didn't hurt, but its gentle warmth reminded her of days spent in the sun. She's still carrying that heat deep inside her, tiny bursts of flame living within her gut. Life itself, waiting for her.

This time her smile doesn't falter.


End file.
